Howard had been understandably dismayed to learn that Jed was implicated in the robberies, but that was no excuse for simply vanishing. He should be at his fiancée’s side this evening.
Charles searched from room to room but his brother was not to be found. At last he stepped out on to the terrace and scanned the lawns.
There were no clouds and he could see as far as the lakeside.
Narrowing his eyes, he started. Surely that was a figure on horseback?
Horse and rider stood facing the house, and he could see in the moonlight that the horse was of a pale hue. As if sensing his gaze, the horse was suddenly wheeled about. It set off at a canter along the lake.
Following its progress, Charles realised that it was not in order to avoid his scrutiny that the rider had turned, but in order to intercept a second figure on horseback, approaching from the direction of the stables. He strained his eyes but could make out no detail of the other figure save that the horse was dark and the rider in an even darker cape.
Could it possibly be Howard? He certainly rode a black horse and he was certainly nowhere in the house. If it was he, what on earth was he doing abandoning the party and his fiancée in this manner? Musing on what he should do – ride in pursuit or make excuses for Howard’s absence – Charles was about to re-enter the house when he was accosted by Lord Shelford on his way out.
“Ah! Delverton! Just the man. I wonder if you would care to take a stroll with me? There is something troubling me – it concerns us both – I should be glad to unburden myself.”
The tone in which these words were spoken was so urgent that, with a last glance toward the retreating riders, Charles readily assented.
“Certainly, Lord Shelford.”
Seemingly reassured, Lord Shelford relaxed a little. “I must say I am glad to get away from all this merriment. We could walk to the lake. I have a flask of brandy on me. And a couple of first class cigars.”
Charles again assented and the two men set off, walking at first in silence. Ahead of them, in Priory Lake, the reflected moon turned slowly, a pale and lonely orb, seeming to sink and drown in the dark, unruffled waters.
*
As the hands of the clock crept on and there was still no sign of Howard, more and more curious looks were cast Davina’s way. She sat in her chair, eyes down, opening and shutting her fan where it lay in her lap. She had no wish to dance again and had refused all offers.
She was aware of the growing concern about her and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. At the same time she was glad, yes, glad that Howard had not come as expected to lead her out on to the floor. She was afraid to be in his arms and not feel what she had felt in Charles’s arms, afraid that Howard would sense her regret.
Regine collapsed on a neighbouring chair, her cheeks red as embers from her exertions. She waved her fan vigorously before her face a moment before addressing her sister. “I wish you would bestir yourself and dance. It makes me feel guilty to be enjoying it all with you sitting here like a blancmange.”
Davina smiled faintly. “A blancmange?”
“Well. All pale and quivering. You are, you know. I can’t think where Howard has gone to. It’s quite wrong of him to disappear like this. Unless, of course, it’s this wretched business that the men are about.”
“I thought – the stable hands had been sent out?”
“They have, but you know how our own menfolk are. They’d hunt a fellow as quick as a pheasant. Father and Lord Delverton have disappeared too. I am sure they’ve sneaked away to join in.”
“Y-you are?”
“I am.”
“And do we know – exactly who it is – they are hunting?”
Regine leaned closer and spoke behind her fan. “I shouldn’t really say as it’s not common knowledge but I believe it to be that lout Jed Barker. The stable hands set off in the direction of Lark House and they were hardly going to arrest the cook there, were they?”
Davina was silent for a moment and then rose. “I think I should like to retire.”
“Dear girl, you can’t be serious. You are the hostess.”
“No, Regine, I am hardly that. You have been doing the honours and I shall not be missed. I-I’m very tired. Let me just slip away.”
Regine opened her mouth to protest again but Davina was already on her way to the door. Regine snapped shut her fan. Really! The goings-on here this evening. She could not puzzle it all out but one thing was certain. She had never met two people less inclined to seek out each other’s company than Howard Delverton and her sister!
Davina made her way quickly to her room. Jess sprang up from her seat before the fire when her mistress entered.
“It’s not over already, is it, miss?”
“No, Jess, but I’m tired. Will you unbutton me, please?”
Astonished, Jess did as she was requested. She helped Davina into her nightgown and brushed out her hair before the mirror.
Davina stared at her reflection. What was it that Esmé had called her? Pale and spoilt.
She thought of Esmé’s vivid features, her red-berry lips, her flashing black eyes, her hair like a raven’s plumage, and tears welled in her eyes. Her own face was indeed as white as china and her hair the insipid colour of buttercups! At last her toilette was completed. Jess turned back the sheets on the bed and Davina climbed in. Jess bobbed a curtsy.
“Anything else, miss?”
“No, thank you, Jess. Good night.”
“Goodnight, miss.”
The door closed behind Jess. Far, far away the strains of the music floated in the night, barely perceptible below the crackle of the fire in the grate. Jess had quenched all the lamps bar one, which threw out a faltering light.
Davina closed her eyes. She was alone and yet not alone, for the image of Lord Delverton burned beneath her lids. The sheets were cool to the touch and yet her flesh was on fire. Her heart too was like a flaming brand in her breast. She had never felt this way about Felix Boyer nor any of the other young gentlemen who had wooed her in London.
She had never felt this way about Howard. Only Lord Delverton made her blood surge like hot liquid in her veins. What could she do, what should she do? To respond so to such a man when she was betrothed to a better!
The shame seemed more than she could bear.
Tears wet her pillow as she tossed and turned. Then the logs shifted in the grate, one or two falling to ashes. Whether it was this that made her open her eyes or something else she was not sure, but she opened her eyes to an unexpected darkness. The lamp that stood on the table by the door had gone out.
It did not trouble her to sleep without a light. She usually did. She had only requested that Jess leave the lamp burning tonight because she expected Regine to look in on her later, full of gossip and intrigue.
Davina rose from her bed. If the wick was spent, it would be better to move the lamp into the other room, rather than have its oily odour hang in the air.
Feeling over the surface of the table, her brow creased. The lamp had gone! She thought for a moment and then returned to her bed. Jess must have crept in and decided it was safer to take it away. Perhaps she would bring a new one before long.
Davina lay back. She thought she would stay awake all night, but before long she began to drift into sleep.
She therefore did not notice the slow and careful opening of the door to her chamber, nor notice the lamp she thought was extinguished flickering in the room beyond. She did not notice the man who approached her bed nor the satisfaction that crossed his features when he saw that she slept.
She slumbered as he returned to the adjoining room, slumbered as he tilted the lamp until the oil streamed out across the carpet. She slumbered as the burning wick was lowered to meet the dark and viscous liquid.
A whoosh of flame rose in an instant, sending out tongues of fire to lap at curtains, carpets and sofas. Soon a thick, enveloping smoke, having filled Davina’s sitting room, began to seep insidiously beneath her bedr
oom door.
Its black and oily tentacles seemed to feel their way through the air, seeking a victim, any victim, to wrap in their deadly, choking embrace.
*
“Brrrr!” shivered Lord Shelford, as he took out his flask and offered it to Charles who shook his head. Lord Shelford took a draft and smacked his lips.
“Nothing better on a chill evening,” he said as he brought out two cigars and handed one to Charles who this time did accept. The two men stood smoking in silence, listening to the lap of water at their feet.
Charles was musing on their conversation as they had walked to the lake.
Lord Shelford had taken a while to voice his concerns. It was as if he was sounding him out, whilst not wishing to offend him with direct questions. How long was it that Charles had been away in Africa? Ten years!
A long time for Howard to be without the guidance of an elder brother.
A handsome young fellow like that, must have had a lot of temptations come his way. And who to turn to, once his father was ill? How long had the father been ill? Some time. So Howard was running the entire estate all that time then, was he not? Who did he turn to?
Jed Barker, as he had heard. So how close was the bond with Barker? And did anyone have any idea of just who Jed was? Charles answered patiently, with only a suspicion of where all this questioning was leading.
Lord Shelford’s last question was the most difficult to address. He explained that Jed had been found wandering in the grounds of Lark House.
“He was old enough to be walking, then?” queried Lord Shelford.
“That’s right. Walking but not talking. So there was no sense to be got out of him.”
“And who found him, exactly?”
“My father. He was returning from a tour of the estate.”
“Walking! Not a – not an illegitimate child, then, abandoned at birth!”
“Indeed not, Lord Shelford,” replied Charles. “More like a child abandoned by parents who could no longer afford to keep him.”
“And your father put him into the care of a farmer’s widow?”
“Old Mr Barker. Yes. She cared for him as best she might. He became a playmate of ours – of Howard’s particularly.”
Lord Shelford sighed. “Jed being implicated in this rotten business of the robberies must go hard with Howard? Unless – ” he hesitated.
Charles looked up sharply and finished for him.
“Unless my brother is also implicated?”
Lord Shelford nodded, a little shame-faced. “I had not wished to come to that and yet – I must.”
“I do not for one moment believe that my brother has had any involvement in the robberies.”
Lord Shelford sighed. “Why did he make off like that this evening, then? He just disappeared after our meeting in the library. I dare say you do know your brother, but are you sure he hasn’t gone to warn Jed that we are on to him?”
Charles considered and answered truthfully. “I am not sure, Lord Shelford.” He was thinking of the two riders he had seen earlier, heading for the woods. He was certain one of them was Howard.
“But I will say this,” he continued, “although Howard might choose to warn Jed, it would most certainly be out of friendship rather than partnership.”
“Humph!” Lord Shelford grunted. “Well, that may be, but it is conspiracy to prevent the course of justice, if that is what he’s about. And it’s churlish behaviour to my daughter, to desert her in that manner.”
“That I grant,” responded Charles softly.
“Indeed,” proceeded Lord Shelford after a moment, “his general conduct towards Davina leaves a great deal to be desired. For some days now, I have remarked on his neglect. It is neither malicious nor deliberate but seems rather to be the result of a – lack of firm attachment.
“It is as if his mind – his heart – are elsewhere. And I must admit that Davina herself seems, of late, to have become similarly distracted. This evening at supper I was most disturbed by their mutual disregard. They exchanged not a glance, not a word, all evening. I ask you, sir, is that normal between two young persons?
“Is it normal for a young man to be so unmoved by the young lady he is to marry? Especially when the lady is – and here I beg your pardon, but I think, though her father, I am well able to view her charms with objectivity – especially when, I say, that the lady is such a treasure!”
Charles drew his cloak about him before he replied carefully.
“My brother’s attitude does not seem at all reasonable in such circumstances.”
“To tell you the truth, Delverton, I was puzzled by his proposal and just as puzzled by her acceptance. With all due respect to your good self, Howard would not have been my choice for my daughter. I doubted he was such as could make her happy and it increasingly seems that I was correct. Why she wants him, I cannot tell.”
Charles stared ahead.
“Perhaps she loves him, Lord Shelford.”
“Perhaps,” he sighed. “She is a girl who can be led by her emotions, I fear.” He sighed again. “I always felt she needed a husband of strong character to guide her. Not someone as – as easy going as Howard. The question is, Delverton, should we take it upon ourselves to intervene?”
Charles hesitated.
“Lord Shelford,” he said quietly after a moment, “I suspect that fate may well intervene for us.”
He looked surprised. “You do?”
“Yes. We should let events run their course, at any rate.”
This last exchange had brought the two men to the lake’s edge. Now they stood, cigars glowing, looking out over the water. The moon lay ghostly and silent beneath its surface. Lord Shelford flicked away his ash and then gestured towards the woods beyond.
“Do you know about the tomb in there?” he asked.
“I do.”
“Queer story. Davina was much taken with it.” Lord Shelford drew deeply on his cigar and its point glimmered brightly in the darkness. “Wasn’t there some rumour that Evelyn Felk had a child?”
Charles turned. “There was.”
“Well – couldn’t Jed Barker be that child?”
“You forget,” he replied, “that Evelyn Felk drowned herself some three years before Jed was found wandering on our estate. If Jed were her child, where was he for those intervening years?’
Lord Shelford shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s a mystery and the baby was never found, after all.”
“It was believed,” said Charles softly, “that she took the child with her when she drowned herself. It was so small it was never discovered in the lake. Another story was that she killed it and buried the body in an unmarked grave.”
Lord Shelford whistled sadly. “I have never heard that theory. In which case, we will have to discover other parentage for our rogue, Jed.” He threw his cigar into the lake, where it hissed like a water snake. “Would you care to stroll on?”
When Charles did not reply, he turned and was surprised to see that his companion seemed rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed intently on the farther shore.
Lord Shelford followed his gaze and started. A figure stood there – a figure in a cloak. Even from where they stood, they could see that the figure was that of a woman who had dopped the hood of the cloak to reveal a shock of white hair.
Charles recognised her as the old woman who had been at the fireside at Esmé’s cottage. It seemed that she recognised him as well, for she was gesticulating wildly.
“Is that female – calling to us?” asked Lord Shelford. “I can hear shouting.”
“It cannot be she that you hear. She is over a quarter of a mile away.”
“Nevertheless, I hear something – very faintly,” persisted Lord Shelford.
“Indeed I hear more than one – ”
Both men turned, for now Charles heard it too, voices crying out wildly from the direction of the house.
Alhough Davina’s room was at the front of the house and they were facing the b
ack, they could see in an instant the cause of the consternation.
Above the roof rose a plume of smoke and the air was glowing red.
The east wing of Priory Park was on fire!
CHAPTER NINE
Charles, being younger and more fleet of foot, reached the scene of the conflagration first.
Housemaids were running hither and thither, in helpless panic. Jess sat rocking to and fro on a fallen log, her green shawl over her head. Nearby Mr Crouch was lying in a state of shock against an old oak.
Parfitt, meanwhile, his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up, was attempting valiantly to organise a team of firefighters, but he lacked troops.
The strongest hands – those belonging to men who worked in the stables or in the fields – had been sent off earlier in pursuit of Jed Barker.
Parfitt greeted Charles with relief. “Thank God you are here, my Lord!” he cried. “We are severely undermanned.”
He looked round wildly. “Where are the ladies?” he asked in a tight voice.
Parfitt ran a sleeve over his brow. “That’s just the thing, my Lord. Miss Regine and Lady Sarah – they are accounted for – but Miss Davina – ”
Charles staggered where he stood. “She is – in the house?”
Parfitt gestured towards Davina’s bedroom window.
“We can’t get to her, my Lord. And we can’t seem to rouse her.”
Pale as death, Charles looked at the house. The room adjoining Davina’s bedroom was fiercely aglow. There could be no doubt that now, even now, smoke must be pouring over Davina’s sleeping figure.
Lord Shelford hobbled into view, his face ashen. One look confirmed his worst fears.
“My – my daughters?” he croaked. “Davina? Regine?”
“Papa, Papa, I am here!” Regine rushed out from a nearby summer house where she had been sheltering and flung herself sobbing into her father’s arms. “I am safe, Papa. But Davina – poor Davina – she is trapped!”
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